Zaibatsu
by Company Cod
Summary: Medici. A name that strikes fear into those who hear it. However, with its stretching influence, it lies vulnerable. Not to mention, as many have said, 'all great things must come to an end.' Now let's see if these four "best friends" can be the catalyst to the collapse.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey there! Thanks for clicking my wee little story. I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this... thing.**

 **My suggested song for reading this is "Unfinished Business", the theme for the stage Under the Bridge. Check the bottom for why, along with an explanation for a few quirks. Just type in youtube and add in the junk below, and you'll be at the song.**

 **watch?v=58NKCwjz6e8 &t=142s**

* * *

September 13, 8:29 P.M.

It was a dark, foggy night. Things were relatively peaceful in the streets of New Meridian, at least compared to most nights.

Within the fog, two figures could be seen walking through into the city's business district...

* * *

The Imanok Gang's base of operations was surprisingly spacious tonight. Over the years, the Medici Mafia, New Meridian's highest criminal empire, has allowed the Imanok Gang to survive and even thrive at one point in Downtown New Meridian. However, poor results over the past year have resulted in less Medici cooperation and protection, resulting in many lost members as of recent months.

That said, not all things were bad at the moment. The Imanok Gang was notorious for two things: exporting very valuable and illegal street drugs, and human trafficking. While human trafficking has been at an all-time low for the group, the illegal drugs have sold at a consistent pace with few busts to note, meaning the remaining workers were paid well for their services to the gang.

Two of these workers walk off an elevator into the main lobby of the gang's 10-floor building. "So I says to Mabel, I says," one thug recites to the other, gossiping about their personal lives. When suddenly...

BOOOOM!

An explosion rocks through the plaza, sending many to the floor, scrambling for their bearings. Through the smoke, two men enter.

One wore a skull mask with a 3-piece suit, and wielded a large knife that almost seemed to be a small machete in his right hand while brandishing a fireman's axe on his shoulder. The figure next to him was a dark-skinned man holding a strange bulky pistol with a scope and a flashlight in his right hand while holding what appeared to be an arcade stick in the other. He wore a pair of black shutter shades, a green jacket with brown fur trimming, and had large dreadlocks colored green, yellow, purple, and black pouring out of his hood.

"I-it's the Scrublords!" one of the lackeys yelled, causing the masked man to noticably scowl. "They've- They've come to-" His sentence was cut short when the gun-toting man opened fire, wiping the both of them out. Reinforcements soon came from upstairs, but were quickly silenced by the masked man's knife and continuous gunfire.

Soon, the pair of fighters left the first floor, leaving a pile of bloodied and dead cronies across the ground.

* * *

On the 10th floor of the Imanok Headquarters, a tucked businessman was having a bad day.

It was bad enough that his operations were being busted a LOT more than usual, thanks in part by the Medicis cutting their little deal off quite a while back. If it weren't for the fact that these were the _Medicis_ we're talking about, he definitely would've said "fuck it" and killed them on the spot. He'd done it with even his most trusted colleagues, so why not? The only thing that stopped him was the realization that even in their hayday, the Medicis outnumbered and outgunned them in any way imaginable. That little conflict would be solved in seconds, and he wouldn't be on the winning side.

Now, he was in a slight panic over the explosion that just so happened to be at the bottom floor of his headquarters. Jumping under his desk in a panic, he fumbled out his radio to contact one of his highest grunts.

"Garas! The hell is happening down there?!" he screamed through the device.

"I don't know yet, boss," Garas replied, "but we're sending a crew down there to handle the situation."

"Garas, I don't want answers five minutes from now, I want them _now!_ " he responded with a scowl. "Take your little crew and make sure they don't get killed. We're already low on men, and we need to know who or what the hell decided that knocking on the door is placing a bomb in the damn mailslot!"

Garas waited a second before curtly replying. "Okay boss. I'll get the details ASAP."

' _For the love of god..._ ' the pissed mobster thought to himself as he sat back in his chair, viewing the surveilance system he had put in place to look for any slacking employees or moles. ' _Who the hell has the nerve to attack our base, much less fucking_ bomb _it?_ '

He started to chuckle. "The dumbasses are probably already dead. Their obvious lack of brain cells probably made them jump in front of a few bullets."

He started to scan the cameras for any signs of life on the first floor, and was staggered to find a pile of bodies. "Holy Trinity..." he muttered in disbelief. Two figures' movement on the outside edge of the room caught his eye, and he turned to study their unusual getup.

Suddenly, Garas and 5 different goons appeared from the elevator and took to the offensive with heavy gunfire. The two quickly ducked behind opposite corners, with the gunman peaking out to give counterfire every few seconds. One of his men was shot down, but the rest continued their lead-driven assault into the corners, trying to drive them out. Unfortunately, ammo eventually ran out, and as Garas and his men quickly reloaded, the masked man pulled out a large axe and chopped into one of his men's skull, using the momentum to quickly pull out his knife and stab into the chest of another, effectively killing them both in a matter of seconds. The hooded man immediately poked out and fired four bullets, three connecting with the final goons straight in the head.

Garas quickly dodged the bullet and pulled out a switchblade, charging for the masked man, hoping to finish at least one of the intruders. He barely got close, as the masked man used two hands to heave his axe over his head and send it straight downwards through Garas's skull.

' _Who the hell could kill every single one of my men?!_ ' the suited boss panicked. ' _This is imposible! The only people who could've hired hitmen of this calibur would be..._ '

"No! Not them!" he cried, watching the men walk down the hall, going towards the elavator. "Anyone but them!"

Could they be... _Medicis?_ Are these men Medicis? He couldn't be sure, and he sure as hell wasn't betting on it. He scrambled through his drawers to find his trump card. He wasn't fond of dirtying his hands with simple killings under normal circumstances, but he knew how to fire a gun if something were to happen, and now seemed as good a time as any to use his Luger and hope he can live another day. He held his weapon and kept his hand near his waist, hoping to surprise the fools when they walked in the room.

Suddenly, the door was blown off its hinges, stunning him and causing him to drop the gun. He was about to crawl and retrieve the weapon when the smoke revealed the frightening image of the angry hooded man, gripping his gun with tight knuckles.

"We warned you," he seethed. "We warned you not to fuck with the girls."

What the hell was he talking about? The trafficking ring around the Canopy Kingdom was nearly completely run by the Medicis, and the small one he had was in a terrible state at the moment. Perhaps he could have talked his way out of this situation... if he wasn't slowly panicking where he stood from the deadly stare he was getting.

"No! But you totally never did though!" the man stumbled out, losing any semblance of control in seconds. It didn't seem that he would be able to keep his cool long enough to talk his way out of this. The gunman took a step forward.

Playtime was over, it seemed. The crime lord quickly lunged down and grabbed his Luger, aiming it at the man's head. "Don't come any closer!" he yelled, trying to steady himself for what was to come. "It's not even-"

Suddenly, he felt something cold in his back. The pain was immediate, and he looked down at his chest as he dropped the gun again, it somehow becoming too heavy for his hands to hold. He immediately saw a point of something sticking out from his chest, covered in his and what was most likely many of his mens' blood. The most he could do at this point was slowly turn his head to look behind him. Standing there was the man in the skull mask, pushing his knife straight through his chest. He could only voice a gargle and a grunt as he fell over, clutching his chest.

It was over. His reign of crime, decades in the making, gone in an instant. He could only lay and imagine what the Three Godesses would do to him. He imagined it would be a fate worse than the darkness of the Skull Heart. That last thought made him grimace as he said the last things on his mind...

"Skull...girls..."

And with that, he laid dead.

The gunman and masked man stood next to each other, covered in blood with victory on their faces.

"Murda Musik!" the gunman said, smirking to himself.

...

The masked man turned to his partner, a confused brow carved in his mask. "What?"

"Murda...musik, man, " the gunman stuttered. "Y'know, hype shit."

He scoffed. "So we just fought an entire gang of tugs up a 10-story building and killed a literal _kingpin,_ and that's your one-liner?" the bloody suit-wearing man questioned.

"Fuck you, dude. If some badass jazz started to play, then you'd totally be behind it." he defended.

The knife wielder thought for a second and simply shrugged. "I guess I can't argue with that." He then turned to his partner. "Yo Woolz, can we go down the elevator this time?"

"Only if you don't hit all the buttons on the way down."

The masked man smirked. "You ask too much of me."

* * *

 **Holy shit, you made it! Good on you.**

 **If you couldn't figure it out, this will be a crossover (kinda?) of the SBFP and Skullgirls. However, Matt and Woolie are in the game (not to mention there is about 1-2 TBFP stories here), so I wouldn't really count it as one. This little story is inspired by the intro card of Friday Night Fisticuffs: Skullgirls, so if you want a visual of this chapter and an explanation on why some of the lines seem a little... weird, direct your attention there while I cry into a tub of ice cream.**

 **Speaking of crippling depression, if you have any questions, comments, tips, tricks, or catcalls, hit them at me. I'm going kinda mental, considering this my first story posted on the site, so don't worry about me not replying (cue to me constantly hitting refresh on comments, cradling a box of Fruity Pebbles like a baby).**

 **I can say that I'm pretty sure I'll have at least a chapter a month, so content is coming down the pipeline constantly.**

 **Also, I like to toss around a few references and weird facts around, so internet cookies to anyone who catches these silent nods. I'll mention any references you guys catch on the AN next chapter, folks, so keep a keen eye.**

 **Fact for this chapter: I'm posting this specifically today to celebrate the 6 year anniversary of the reposting of TBFP: Kirby's Epic Yarn. It's been quite a while hasn't it? Do you feel old yet?**

 **If you're still here, thanks for listening to my nervous ramblings. I'll see you next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Cool stuff on reading the next chapter! I'm still a wee bit nervous on writing, but I am getting more comfy as time goes on, along with trying to refine any edges on my writing.**

 **For this chapter, try out BEC (Happy Birthday Bexy). Hey, it was made by the Living Tombstone and is a fun simple jingle, so I think you'll enjoy it for this chapter.**

 **watch?v=DCQK5_RL6AY**

* * *

The two blood-soaked men walked along the sidewalk, keeping their hands over their weaponry. It may have been so late that no one was out, but it never hurt to be cautious.

' _It probably doesn't help that we wiped a whole gang out within the span of a couple hours, either,_ ' the gunman mused. ' _Gotta add that to my resume._ '

"Hey Woolie," the masked man called to his partner. "There's something on your jacket."

"Yes, Matt. There is," Woolie snarked back. "A lot of blood."

"No, it's something else. Look," Matt pointed at his chest. Woolie looked down, only to have Matt's finger pluck his nose.

"Real fucking mature," Woolie remarked as Matt started to hyperventilate under his mask from too much laughter.

Suddenly, a yellow cadillac drove through the street and stopped at the two. The window rolled down to show a young man with brown hair that reached to his shoulders within. He wore two checker-patterned bracelets, along with a shirt with a purple mushroom and a skull and crossbones adorned on it.

"You up for a ride, Big Papa?" he asked from within with a wily grinning.

"You know it, you saucy son of a bitch!" Woolie replied giddily, opening the back door and jumping in.

"Please stop..." Matt muttered, climbing in afterwards.

* * *

"So I take it everything went well?"

" _Where the hell were you, Liam?!_ " Matt spurted.

"You guys were taking a while, so I ran to the store and got some snacks," Liam said while digging into a bag of chips. "Shrimp flavored. Want some?"

" _No!_ "

"Suit yourself," he curtly replied while shoving them in his mouth. "Anyways, you guys didn't answer my question: did everything go well."

"Depends on your definition of 'well,'" Matt grumbled.

Woolie scoffed. "Really, Matt? We got the job done, and neither of us were hurt doing it. How is that not well?"

Matt turned to Woolie. "Dude, that job was super anticlimactic! First off, those cronies were complete bitches! They couldn't aim for shit, and could barely fight! There were probably about a hundred! _One hundred!_ Versus _two!_ And while we're utterly amazing at our jobs and it's not surprising we won, it's still disapointing. Second, they called us 'Scrublords'," Matt visibly shook. "We're not the Scrublords, we're the Zaibatsu!"

"That's still up for debate," Liam stated with a grimace.

"I'm not finished! Third, even though they all sucked, almost everyone in there had a gun! All I had was a knife and an axe! How unfair is that?!"

Woolie shook his head. "Before we left, I asked you, 'Do you need a gun, Matt?' and all you did was reply, 'No, I'm good, Woolz! I'm gonna party like Bennett in there 'cause I'm a dumbass!'"

"I didn't say it like that, liar!" Matt retorted, watching a flash of anger go through Woolie's eyes before continuing. "I _was_ gonna borrow Pat's shotgun, but he kept yelling at me saying I'd drop it."

"I can see why," Liam jumped in. "I mean, most of the scratches on your axe are from you dropping it."

"You don't know that! You have no proof!"

"I can look in your hands for evidence."

"Keep your eyes on the road!" Matt shook his head. "That's beside the point, assholes. Lastly, you got to take that elevator up to the boss. I had to climb 10 floors! _Then_ we had to walk until Liam picked us up! Do you know how much that makes my abs ache?"

"You were the one who wanted to sneak up behind him through a backroom 'like a sneaky stabber', not to mention that you got to ride the elevator down. Hell, that's probably what held us up," Woolie replied before briefly pausing. "Wait, did you just say that your 'abs' ache?"

"Yeah," Matt said, completely undeterred.

"You don't have abs," Liam deadpanned. "Unless you count fat rolls as a six-pack."

"That's totally not true. Why do you think they call me Matt McMuscles?" he defended, trying to salvage his pride as Woolie started to laugh hysterically.

"No one calls you that," Liam cut in. "In fact, I'd dare to say that you weigh almost as much as Woolie and I combined."

Matt shot into a grin. "I don't, but even if I did, it would be sheer muscle mass."

"Whatever let's you sleep" Woolie simply said, calming down and diverting his attention back to Liam. "Hey Liam, where are we going?"

"Over to Pat's to get you guys cleaned for tomorrow."

"What's happening tomorrow?" Matt questioned.

"Got a message from a man who said he was your employer earlier at the store. You know a David?"

"Yeah, that's his name," Woolie confirmed.

"Well, he wanted me to tell you two that after you finished your job, he wanted us to meet up with him."

"Where at?" Matt questioned, suddenly curious.

"At Silent Street in an old warehouse at 10:00 in the morning. He said to bring any other partners." Liam went blank. "Basically, Pat."

"Fine," Matt simply replied. "More jobs equals more money. I'll tell Leana that I'm at Pat's. Y'know, keep her from worrying."

Liam nodded. "Cool. Let's hurry before Pat opens the vodka. I don't want to have to deal with an angry _and_ drunk Pat."

* * *

 **I'm sorry that this chapter is pretty uneventful (and quite possibly rubbish), but I did get a few character details out through their conversations and tried to make this as fun as possible. I'm still working on my dialogue interaction, so any comments would be appreciated. This was basically getting from point A to point B, but Chapter 3 ought to be coming pretty soon, so that's good.**

 **Thanks for continuing to read this strange little word collection, and I hope to see you for the next chapter. Until then, cheers!**

 **Fun Fact: The official currency for the Canopy Kingdom is "Bones." Expect that to be brought up a good bit.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Lovely, we made it to Chapter 3. This was a bit more fun to write than last chapter, but I still have a tinge of anxiety with it. But we must go on!**

 **For this, I recommend The Oppressed from FFVII. While I would usually only give one song, there are 2 variations I recommend. You see, Team FourStar also has a version on their Midgar Mix album I was going to recommend, buuuut... they only have the whole album. So I decided to put 2 links. The top one gives you the classic rendition, while the bottom leads you to the revamped version (if you use this version, go to 36:46. Sorry for the hassle).**

 **/watch?v=u3Oron-nbHA &t=10s**

 **/watch?v=1RTSIqf2CC0**

* * *

"We're here."

"Finally!" Matt groaned from the back seat, stumbling out. "We have to get a faster car after this."

"I'm cool with that," Liam replied, staring up towards the building they were about to enter. It was a simple 3-floor apartment complex with brick walls and a single light outside. It surprisingly didn't stick out, even with its size, due to its down-to-earth feel and design.

A pretty good place to hide out, if you were looking for that sort of thing.

As they walked towards the front door, Matt immediately faceplanted into the concrete.

"Stupid sidewalk..." Matt grumbled as he picked up his newly dented fire axe.

"No proof, huh?" Liam commented as he walked over to the door.

"Shut up..." Matt grumbled as he slogged behind.

* * *

Julia could be having a better day.

She started the day at 6 A.M. with a rough hangover. She crawled out of bed and hurried to her first job at a local cafe, where she was promptly shouted at by an angry customer for taking too long when it was the cook who burned the food _two_ separate times. She then slogged through the rest of her day, earning a whopping 1 Bone as a tip, until she left for her current job. She was now at the Small Apartments complex (Yes, that was its name), where her coworker wouldn't shut the fuck up about her boyfriend.

"So I told Todd, 'if your mom's so great, just go live with her!' That shut him up. Can you believe that guy? Ugh, I hate him!"

Julia just slumped at the front desk. "Then break up with him."

Her coworker frowned. "But I love him."

"Then why are you complaining about him to me?"

"Because you're a good listener."

Julia twitched. ' _Why am I not surprised...?_ '

"Um, I have to use the bathroom. Can you watch things for me for a bit?"

"No problem," she lied.

As her coworker walked away, she finally let out a heavy groan. ' _Thank Trinity she's gone. I can finally get some goddamn peace and quiet around here._ '

DING!

"Of _course,_ " she mumbled. She quickly shifted her disgruntled scowl into a cheery smile. "Hello, and welcome to Small Apartments! How may I... help... " She slowly stopped upon staring at the people who walked into the lobby. She swore the room became ice cold instantly.

Two of them were bloody, weapon-toting men, one wearing a skull mask holding a slightly dented axe, and the other a frighteningly tall man with thick dreadlocks holding what seemed to be a pistol on steroids and...

' _...an arcade stick?_ '

She didn't ponder on it for too long, as she immediately reached underneath the bar for the shotgun hanging underneath.

She grabbed air.

Her eyes shot open even father. There should be a fucking gun here! Mr. Small always left one for when he left 'so no one took his pounds...of Bones.' Did he take it? Just so she could killed, defiled, raped, or a mix of the three?

' _Probably._ '

She slowly lifted her hands in the air until she heard the third speak. "Excuse me, miss?" She hadn't acknowledged him earlier, but now that she looked, he didn't look nearly as intimidating as his cohorts. He simply looked like a timid man with shoulder-length brown hair wearing a black and purple shirt. There wasn't a speck of blood on him.

' _Hell, he kinda looks cute,_ ' she thought. ' _But he may have the other two kill for him so he doesn't get his hands dirty!_ ' She immediately froze up again, considering her options.

She came up blank.

"H-how can I help you, sir?" she asked, slowly panicking more and more.

"I'm looking for the room of a Mr. Boivin. Do you know his apartment number by any chance?"

She quickly scoured through her records, finding a Pat Boivin. "Room 419, sir."

"Thanks!" he chirped, either ignoring the tense mood or not noticing it altogether. Was she the only one seeing the _armed and bloody men behind him?_

He quickly noticed her looking behind him with a utterly terrified expression. "Oh, them?" He pointed over his shoulder at the two. "Don't mind them. They're sweeties." He reached into his pockets, and she flinched as he placed something on the counter. "Sorry for the trouble, ma'am. I think you deserve this," he said. She looked to see a small stack of Bones placed neatly on her desk.

"...Thanks?"

"No problem," he replied sincerely. He turned to leave, but quickly turned around. "Oh! Um, can you keep this a 'don't ask, don't tell' kind of thing? Don't need to cause a scene, y'know." She quickly nodded, frozen in a state of fear, joy, and confusion. "Great." He swiftly moved along with his compatriots to their next destination.

She stood stunned. ' _Was...was that it? I'm still alive? Wait - Did I just give a bunch of killers an address to some poor victim?_ '

"At least _I'm_ still alive. And he tipped!" she commented with barely an ounce of sympathy.

"Woo! Sorry I took so long in there. We ran out of toilet paper. Jeez, I swear- Julia? Are you alright? You look pale."

Her mood completely shifted into joy, she quickly turned to her coworker. "So tell me about Todd."

* * *

"About time you bastards showed up!"

"Sorry that Liam's so slow."

"I kept to the speed limit to avoid being pulled over with two bloody men in the back seat," Liam said, walking in to the apartment. Pat's apartment was quite open, considering the small area it had, and everything was scrubbed to a reflective sheen. "Also, Matt found an elevator. Nice apartment, by the way."

"Thanks. At least I don't let mine get as dirty as the _Woolie Hole_ over there," Pat looked over to the offender with a scowl. Pat wore a green polo shirt with simple brown pants, was a head shorter than everyone else, and was bald with a very pronounced short red beard. Even with his short stature, however, he held an unmistakable level of danger no one wanted to cross.

"And _you!_ " Pat turned towards Matt. "You're an accomplished hitman, but you get distracted by fucking _elevators!_ HOW?!"

Matt shrugged, taking off his shoes and walking to the countertop. "I find entertainment in the little things."

Pat stood there, slowly stewing in his own frustration, until finally groaning. "Whatever," Pat grunted. "You guys gonna tell me what's so important it couldn't wait until tomorrow morning?"

"I'll explain in a bit," Liam replied, gazing into Pat's kitchen.

Pat eyed him suspiciously before turning back the the others. "Either way, you two need to bathe.I don't need you assholes tracking blood all over my new fucking apartment."

"Considering we look like we came from a butcher's festival, I would have to agree," Woolie admitted.

"It's first door on the left. Don't touch my cinnamon bodywash."

Pat turned back to walk away, but quickly added with a grin, "Try not to slip when you're making out with Matt!"

"I have a girlfriend, asshole!" Matt yelled from across the hallway.

" _Sure_ you do."

Matt continued to yell back as he walked. "You _met_ her, you fu-!"

The door slammed shut, and Pat quickly sat down in his large cushioned chair with a groan and held his head in his hands. "You're all fucking children, and I'm the unfortunate nanny you're stuck with."

"Hey Pat," Liam called from the kitchen. "It looks like you haven't broke in this kitchen. Do you want me to cook dinner?"

An immediate childish grin broke across Pat's face as he shot out his seat. "Fuck yeah!"

* * *

' _Why is Pat such a dick?_ '

Matt scowled at the mirror and took off his mask. "One of life's greatest mysteries, huh?" he pondered as he stared into Pat's mirror. Underneath the bloody skull mask, he had simple brown eyes, incredibly short black hair, and a short beard. He looked down at his blood-soaked hands. ' _I probably should wash my weapons._ '

He quickly pulled out his knife and axe, washing the blades along with his palms. He continued cleaning the weapons merrily, grimacing when his hand suddenly ran across the brand new dent on the left side of the axe's blade. He would have to hammer that out later.

He quickly undressed, throwing his bloody suit into a pile, and walked into the shower, letting the dirt, grime, and blood from a hard day's work wash away.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"What do you want?" Matt called out, squeezing blueberry bodywash onto a small towel and washing his skull tattoo-covered arms.

"Hurry up! I wanna clean up too, dammit!"

"Okay, I'm fucking moving!"

"Alright. Don't use all the hot water!"

"I won't! Geez, what do you take me for?" Matt defended, scrubbing himself.

"A dumbass."

"Shut up! Go wait like a normal person," Matt shot back, washing the suds from himself.

"Fine," Woolie said, walking away from the door.

Matt sighed, finally able to enjoy the silence. He stood there, letting the warm water wash over his body like a tiny waterfall.

RIIIIIIIING! RIIIIIIIING!

Matt immediately slipped, crashing face-first into the wall beside himself. "Uggggh..." he groaned, slowly getting up and wrapping himself in a towel. He reached into his dirty clothes, pulling out a phone from his bloody pants' pocket while grabbing a set of clean clothes Liam had brought. ' _Liam's the best._ '

"Hello?"

"Hey, Matt!" a woman called from the other side.

"Leana!" Matt answered with glee, slipping into a black t-shirt. He immediately paled. "Oh god! I'm sorry I forget to call earlier! Liam took a while and there was an elev-"

"It's fine," Leana sighed. "Just don't do it again. Anyways, is everything okay? Where are you?"

"Trust me, it won't. Me and Woolie are fine, and we're at Pat's place right now. Tomorrow we're going to go get paid, but the guy who hired us wants to see Pat and Liam too, so we decided to just go together," Matt scratched his chin while adjusting a skull beanie on his head. "Or at least Liam's going to convince Pat to."

"...You realize how fake that scenario sounds, right?"

"Actually, Liam's really good at convincing people." Matt broke into a grin. "It's probably his _boyish charms._ "

"No, I meant the meeting."

"Don't worry about that. We're four accomplished hitmen, so what could happen?"

"There could be an army of them," Leana said with a twinge of anxiety.

"I-I'm making it up as I go, okay?" Matt stuttered, unable to lie to her.

" _That's what I'm worried about._ "

"I'll... figure out something out," Matt replied, pondering his options while slipping on a pair of jeans. "Anyways, how's Zach?"

Leana sighed on the other end. "He's still getting bullied at school. I talked to a few teachers and even the principal, but all they say is that 'they'll try to stop it when they see it and punish the students accordingly.'" She huffed. "They'll probably start walking around with blindfolds just to say they didn't see anything."

"Next time you go there, tell them to fix it or else _I'll_ go up and fix it," Matt stated, frustration building at the thought of it.

"Don't worry about it," Leana said soothingly. "Benny's helping him out right now, so that should help him a lot and keep them away. Besides, next time I go up there, I'll bring a pair of brass knuckles just to be sure," she joked.

"Alright. Tell him that I said I love him when he gets up tomorrow," Matt spoke softly. "I'll be home tomorrow. I'll give you a time when I can."

"Of course. Just _please,_ be careful. Talk to you later, baby."

"Talk to you later," Matt sighed. He was glad everything was fine at home, but he couldn't shake his anger and sadness over Zach. Kids were brutal at that age, and that could really dent his confidence. If only they'd see him for who he was instead of _what_...

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

"HURRY THE HELL UP! IT'S BEEN ALMOST AN HOUR!" Woolie yelled through the door.

"ALRIGHT, I'M FUCKING FINISHED!" Matt groaned from the other side.

"I SWEAR, IF YOU'RE JERKI-!"

Matt swung the door open, nailing Woolie right in the nose.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Pat yelled from the living room.

"B-bastard!" he grunted through clenched teeth, sending Matt a furious look. "The hell was that for?!"

"You shouldn't be so close to the door, man," Matt laughed out. "Are you okay?"

Woolie pulled back his hood, revealing his lip ring and the scowl accompanying it. Behind his shades, his eyes were a dark brown, and his nose was being held gingerly. "I'm fine, but you could've fucked up my nose, you prick."

"Fine, fine, I'm sorry," Matt waved it off and walked out of the bathroom. "Hurry up and bathe. We've gotta talk about tomorrow."

"Would've already done it if you finished earlier..." Woolie grumbled as they passed each other.

Woolie slipped in the bathroom, quickly undressing and walking into the shower. He turned the knob, ready for the hot stream of water to wash his pain away.

Cold water went through the pipes, freezing him in place on contact. His rage broiled in his head, finally being let loose in a vengeful scream.

"MMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATT!"

* * *

 **The struggles of limited hot water...**

 **Anyway, thanks for continuing the trek down the rabbit hole. I'm sorry I haven't posted in quite a bit. School is... school.**

 **I have never stepped foot in an apartment complex before, so if I'm cringingly wrong on a detail, _please_ tell me. And while you're at it, leave a review if I have _any_ facts wrong. I still do this for fun, but any and all tips are appreciated.**

 **But until next chapter, to those who deal with my bad puns... I'm sorry.**

 **Fun Fact: The _Small Apartments_ are named after James Small, resident Dreamcast lover and super-Brit, who is constantly joked about in SBFP.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Welcome to another chapter of the Skullgirls archive's least talked about fanfic, Zaibatsu! Yay!**

 **But a round of thanks to those who have favorited and followed so far, though. I'll try to hustle these next few chapters out a bit quicker, but I promise nothing. And deliver less.**

 **Well, we've made it to the fourth chapter, which, honestly, I probably should be past that by now. However, I like to plan out multiple chapters beforehand, and the next chapter has been giving me a headache, so... yeah.**

 **Anyway, I am legitimately happy to be posting this chapter, as this is the first time Skullgirls characters appear in a Skullgirls fanfiction!**

 **... I feel like this is a problem.**

 **Don't worry, more characters from the titular franchise are coming. I honestly just want to make a semi-solid base to start with, though.**

 **Anyway, not only is there a main chapter theme for this one, I have seperate themes for certain instances. Sorry for the hassle, but it's fun to make theme songs. Anyways, I will be designating these instances with a nice symbol at their starting point, so have some tabs ready! No peeking!**

 **The main theme for the non-symbolized moments is Jazz House from the cult classic Platinum game, Anarchy Reigns. While most of that soundtrack is aggressive rap, this is a LOT more chill, and is, in general, a lot nicer to relax to.**

 **Happy hunting!**

 **(Main Theme) watch?v=B9_1AjnfrVc**

 *** watch?v=h-lid4oDw1w**

 **^ watch?v=8-dMlDdYxEc**

* * *

Pat stared in contemplative silence at Liam, who was finishing up dinner.

"...You realize this entire scenario is complete lunacy, right?"

Liam looked over with a smile. "Of course. Any other case and I would immediately back out..." He looked down and chopped a carrot. "But I have a good feeling about this. This Dave guy seems _familiar_... in a good way. I wanna see this through for a bit." He turned towards Pat with a grin. "And if it's a job, we all win, y'know?

"With that being said, we should have a contingency plan in case shit goes down," he continued, stroking an imaginary goatie.

"Of course," Pat replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "We can be dumb, but we're not _complete_ idiots!"

Matt immediately stumbled up front, fighting with a skull-adorned jacket wrapped around himself. Struggling to find the arm holes, he flopped face-first into the ground. He slowly got to his feet with a groan, adjusting his skull beanie and straighting his jacket. "'Sup, guys? What're we talking about?"

Pat twitched.

"I take that back. I take it all fucking back," he deadpanned.

"I agree," Liam turned back to his quickly finishing meal. "With both statements, actually."

"I agree to that, too-" Matt quickly cut himself off. "Wait, what am I agreeing to?" Matt questioned, moving to the couch.

"You're a dumbass, Matt."

"Quite. Anyways," Liam cut in, trying to drag the conversation back on track. "What do you two think we should do?"

"Did he say no weapons?"

"I'd say it's a bad idea to have all weapons out for what could be just a pay day."

"Well, the fact that they wanted me to come isn't suspicious at _all,_ is it?" Pat scoffed.

"Not to mention that we're meeting him in an abandoned storage facility," he added with a smirk and a stir.

Pat was silent for a few seconds, until breaking into a sardonic smile. "Wow," he finally spoke. "We're boned, aren't we?"

"Like your mom on a Saturday night," Matt chimed in.

Pat's smile quickly shifted into a scowl. "God _dammit_ , Matt," he groaned, melting into his chair. "Shut the fuck up."

"I will never follow your ginger ways," Matt replied with a grin.

"Look who finally showed up," Liam commented as a disgruntled Woolie walked into the room and flopped on the sofa. He wore a black jacket that partially covered a green plaid shirt and a green toque. The hat had a button pinned on that displayed a yellow triangle on a black background on the top half and inverted on the bottom half.

"Matt," Pat turned to the person in question. "The hell'd you do to him this time?"

"Nothing! Why do you always pick me?" he retorted quickly.

"Because you always do something."

"He used all the hot water. The _one_ thing I told him not to do," Woolie said, reaching for the remote.

"Shit, did I?" Matt questioned. "I'm sorry, man." Woolie simply grumbled and turned on the TV.

"NMO's on channel 141," Pat told him, sitting back to get comfortable.

"Gotcha," Woolie responded, him grimace slowly slowly growing into a content smile.

"Eli, also known as Plague, has escap-" *BZZZT*

"Hello, I'm Zon-" *BZZZT*

"FACKING BULLSHIE-!" *BZZZT*

"Hello and welcome to Friday Night NMO! And do we have a night for you!"

* * *

 _Meanwhile, In Downtown New Meridian..._

"That's right, Larry," a portly fellow with a gallon cowboy hat spoke into his mic. "I'm Tim Moss, and with me is Larry 'The Peasant' Jawler, and do we have a main event tonight!"

"That's right, TM!" Jawler spoke with gusto. "Tonight, the Storm, Zubaz, faces off with the Hunter, Predator, in a TLC match for the Blockbuster Championship! But let's get to the action now with our announcer, Joshua Tomar!"

The crowd looked up to the titantron, awaiting the first combatant in tonight's event. Suddenly, the titantron lit up with a barrage of black and orange diamonds as a line of trumpets began to play from the speakers, rising in pitch until reaching a crescendo and divolving into a slow melody. The crowd lit up in excitement, many giving cheers at the figure walking into the light.*

"Making her way to the ring! From New Meridian, weighing in at 130 lbs., the Big Star from the Big Top, CEREBELLA!" Out came a woman with a confident strut, sparkling violet eyes, near flawless tan skin (only broken by a purple diamond on her left cheek), and mint-green hair tied in a sharp ponytail yet also concealed under a skull-adorned orange cap with two nubs on the sides. She wore a form-fitting orange dress with long white sleeves that almost covers too little with long white sleeves and a light orange and black diamond design on the trim, along with thigh-lengthened boots sharing the same diamond design as the dress along with two skulls in the front. Her attitude screamed tantalizing yet dangerous, and she showed this as she sauntered to the ring.

"Cerebella may be a newcomer to the NMO, but don't let that fool you," Jawler commented as she made her way down the aisle. "She's the main event of the Cirque de Cartes for a reason! This diva is fast, strong, and unbelievably agile! And she is able to give an amazing performance at both the spotlight at the Cirque de Cartes _and_ here at Friday Night NMO! Talk about a work schedule!"

"That's right Jawler," TM bounded off his partner as Cerebella climbed the stairs to the apron and blew a kiss from her mint-green lips. "Using the hat Vice-Versa, the iamond Dynamo has toppled seasoned veterans like Hitomi, Fem!Baz, and even one of the founding members of the Order of the Storm Feelers, the Shockmaster! She's 3-0 here at New Meridian Offensive Wrestling, and she doesn't plan on breaking that streak any time soon."

She slipped into the ring and waved around, recieving a few cat-calls in the process, but quickly pulled out a mic to silence the crowd.

"It's been three weeks since I arrived at NMO, and boy, have I made an impact in less than a month! I'm already the main attraction!" She winked at the crowd, eliciting a few cheers. "But tonight, I didn't just come to talk about how strong, graceful, and goddamn _sexy_ I am. Tonight, I want to make a statement.

"NMO is known for having some of the best and most diverse superstars in the whole world, accepting any race, age, and gender, and giving them a chance to etch their name in the perverbial cobblestone. But over the past few weeks, well, all I've seen are a bunch of _jokes_." The crowd slowly saw where this was going, and began to boo when Cerebella's grin turned into a sour scowl. "When I grew up watching Friday Night NMO, I expected the absolute _best_ out of its performers. But you know what? All I see are a bunch of relics stuck on a shelf, and when I come with a hammer, they break like fine china!

"And yet you cheer for these _mummies!_ And mummies is truly an understatement here! You all cheer as these old fools flail around for a few minutes until the other has fallen and they can't get up! You guys are as pathetic as the buffoons we still call 'superstars!'"

She began to pace around the ring. "And I'm not finished! Not by a long shot! I will _demolish_ every single superstar that stands in my way, and I will become the _undisputed_ NMO Champion! _I_ will become the new gold standard for all superstars to compare themselves to!" She turned towards the front of the arena, her scowl turning into a confident smirk.

"And if anyone thinks they can muster up the guts to even _challenge_ me, let alone beat me..." She quickly tossed her hat into the air, posing and letting the hat land square on her head. Vice-Versa quickly shifted appearance, the two nubs quickly sprouting out into two bulking and massive arms that rivaled even a gigan's muscles. Cerebella practically oozed intimidation as she glared at the ramp.

"...Come and step into the spotlight!"

The crowd became deathly quiet, anticipating the new challenger daring to face off with Cerebella.

All of a sudden, the lights cut off, leaving a white circle on the titantron.

AROOOOO!^

The silouette of a wolf flashed onto the moon, immediately causing the lights to flash back on with a blast of high-intensity music.

"Oh my Goddess!" Jawler yelled on the mic, his jaw hanging agape.

"Is it really him?" TM spoke with uncertainty, equally baffled.

Out came a man with a hood resembling a wolf's head covered in gray fur holding a red steel chair, his slick black hair as perfectly curled as his rich grin. He wore a white shirt adorned with three black diamonds paired with dark black suspenders along with pants also smothered in gray fur. His arms were adorned with black wrist bands along with an alarming amount of arm hair. His eyes lit up with an exciting flare as he stomped down the ramp, high-fiving anyone he passed by along the way.

"IT IS!" Jawler exclamed with the arrival of this charismatic figure. "It's the man, the myth, the legend, THE HYPE! BEOWULF!"

"Beowulf is a 3-time Blockbuster Champion, a former Checkmate Champion, and a former NMO World Champion! It's been 7 years since Beowulf has appeared in a squared circle, with his last notable match being against the Gigan powerhouse Grendel in a Deathmatch, one of the most legendary matches in the history of the NMO!"

"And it's about time he came back!" Jawler replied. "But how will the Wulf respond to the comments from the seemingly unstoppable Diamond Dynamo?"

Beowulf quickly jumped onto the apron of the ring, hanging on to the ropes and he gave gave loud howl throughout the arena, causing plumes of fire to go off at the front of the arena. He gave off a hearty laugh as he slipped through the ropes and entered the squared circle.

Beowulf qickly pulled out a mic and lifted it up to begin talking, but was drowned out by the crowds excited chants. "BE-O-WULF! BE-O-WULF!" they continued on, egging on the returned legend.

"Thank you, thank you!" he responded. "Finally! The Wulf has come BACK to New Meridian!" he chanted with a smile. "I've missed this, y'know! And you know what?!" He pointed out towards the crowd, recieving cheers in response. "I knew all you little Wulves out there couldn't forget your main man! He's back to protect the pack!" The crowd roared out in response.

He spun back towards his foe to address her "And I don't know why you're badmouthing all the amazing superstars in the locker room and the little Wulfsters around the world, but let me guarantee you this: you're gonna regret treading on Wulf territory! Aroooo!"

Cerebella simply scoffed and looked back, a devilish smirk written on her face. "Hey, champ. You sure you're ready for this? It's been years since you got in the ring. I might be too much for you to handle!"

"Oh trust me, I'm ready." he shot back in reply. "And you know what? Looks like we both got somethin' to prove!" He turned his head to the crowd. "Are you ready Wulfpack? 'Cause I sure as hell am!" He threw the mic down, and just like that, the match between titans began.

* * *

"Holy shit!" Matt fanboyed in awe. "Beowulf's back!"

"That's pretty cool," Liam commented, setting up his latest creation for dinner.

"Whatever," Pat said with a blank tone. "Reptile could totally kick his ass."

"Dude, Reptile's been dead for nearly a decade now," Woolie commented. "When are you gonna give it up?"

"Hey, they never found a body, so you don't know."

"YOU DON'T EITHER!" he exclaimed, the match continuing with Cerebella managing to knock Beowulf to the floor with a hard right, eliciting a collection of (mostly) boos. "He has never been spotted since his Deathmatch incident. What are the other options?"

"He could be hiding in plain sight?" Pat threw out.

"What, you mean integrating?"

"No, no man, I got it. He's _invisible._ "

"What?" Woolie exclaimed, turning and looking at Pat like he was a mad man.

Pat turned to Woolie, an intense look of consentration on his face. "Dude, listen: being invisible is the _SHIT!_ It's so goddamn cool." Pat's grimace slowly transformed into a dreamy smile as Beowulf managing to land a Flying Wulfdog on his foe. "I wish I could be invisible..."

"Why would you-" Woolie cradled his head to calm it, but Matt just put a hand on his shoulder and looked at Pat.

"Dude, what's your thing with being invisible?"

"Because you'd be fucking _INVISIBLE!_ It's the best superpower ever if you think about it," Pat explained. "You could pretty much get away with _anything!_ Well, as long as you're not a dumbass or a klutz."

"We already live in a world with 15-foot tall Gigans and _actual magic users_ , and you want a _cloak of invisibility?_ " Woolie asked disbelievingly, Cerebella landing a Battle Butt on the veteran, causing him to bounce off the ropes into a Merry Go-Rilla.

" _Yes!_ " Pat answered immediately and without doubt. "I already practice that arcane bullshit, so is it crazy that I want to learn how to turn invisible? I just don't know anyone who can teach me, and I don't see any books on that shit, but I _want_ to, dammit. Is that too much to ask?"

"In case you're done with your witchcraft talk,"Liam said jokingly. "Dinner's ready."

"Damn, that took a while," Woolie commented. "What did ya cook?"

"Venison stew!"

"Isn't that usually a winter meal?" Matt prodded as Liam passed out bowls of the steaming meal.

" _Do you want to starve?_ "

"NO, NO, THANK YOU FOR THE DELICIOUS MEAL!" he scrambled, shoving a spoonful into his mouth, uncaring of his gums quickly singeing.

"You're welcome," Liam grinned.

"Soooooooo..." Woolie began. "How are we going to deal with tomorrow, guys?"

"Well, there are quite a few options here, but..." Pat trailed off.

"All of them are shady?" Liam cut in.

"Pretty much."

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. I mean, we _are_ missing a _lot_ of details here, so it's extremely understandable to bring protection," Woolie continued, with Matt chuckling in the background. "But say this really is a job offer: would they really still offer it if we basically pulled out swathes of bullshit on them?"

"Can we afford _not_ to? I mean, other than the weapons and a wee bit of magic, we're still normal fucking humans. It's one hit, one kill for the most part, _especially_ now," the ginger added with a scowl.

"True..." Liam contemplated.

"Holy shit, look!" Matt called out and pointed towards the TV.

Beowulf and Cerebella stood at a bit of a standstill, with both combatants utterly exhausted and with the Hurting set up on the other side of the ring. It eventually turned into a slugfest, with Cerebella landing hard slaps and elbows and Beowulf returning with brutal punches and knees. Finally, it seemed Cerebella had enough, and caused Vice-Versa to bet it all on a vicious straight. Beowulf was able to barely sidestep it, and grabbed its wrist in a vice hold, slowly lifting the hat with its wielder desperately clinging to keep it on.

"By Gawddess, look at the tremendous strength of Beowulf, able to lift both the gargantuan fists of Vice-Versa along with Cerebella!" TM yelled.

He quickly continued by tugging on the hat, causing it to fall off and transform back into its normal state, leaving Cerebella helpless in the air. He quickly capitalized, jumping up and grabbing the girl into a midair hold.

"Holy shit!" Matt yelled at his fellow fans. "Look where he's going!"

He continued to fly in the air, putting Cerebella into a headlock until gravity took its course, bringing them back down with a...

 _ **CRASH!**_

"No way!" Jawler called, looking at the aftermath. "Beowulf just did the Airwulf Flying Wulfdog into the Hurting - _with Cerebella in tow!_ "

"Stop the damn match already!" TM called out. "He won! Just pin her, dammit!"

Beowulf complied, rolling over to place his arm over her chest.

 **1!**

 **2!**

 **3!**

The crowd went wild as Beowulf's theme blared throughout the stadium, culminating in chants of "HOL-Y SHIT!" and "THIS IS AWE-SOME!" Beowulf slowly stood up, basking in the glory of the fans cheering him on, with undoubtably a few tears coming out as a result.

"That was great!" Matt and Woolie yelled, gushing over the match.

"That was actually pretty fucking cool. I'm honestly surprised that it went that extreme. _It's not like it's fucking Reptile or anything though,_ " Pat grumbled in acknowledgement.

"Oh wait! Guys!" Matt exclaimed. "I think I know what we could do tomorrow!"

"Well?" Liam asked.

"We don't really need to go parading around our weapons, so why not just..." Matt slid his utensils into his sleeve with a cheshire grin. "Make them, would you say,...

" _Invisible?_ "

...

Pat looked at him with a blank stare. "That's it?"

"Yep," Matt said in a triumphant pose.

"Your plan is just _concealment?_ "

"...yes?"

"You do realize that that's still bringing our fucking weapons, right?"

"Do you have a better idea?" he asked smugly with an eyebrow raised.

"...no."

"So I win."

"NO! Your idea SUCKS!"

"But you can't fight me with another idea."

"...not yet, but-"

"So Matt wins!"

By the next hour, the once spotless apartment was demolished. Pat was later found lying motionless in his bed, cradling a bottle of Espidi Vodka.

* * *

 **Oh God, you don't know how hard it was for me to make at least an adequate ending. I've worked on that shit for at least a month now, and I'm _still_ not entirely happy with it, either. So that's nice.**

 **But wrestling! Honestly, wanted to write out the entire fight, but I wanted to write dialogue at the same time, so I simply cut a line down the middle. Don't worry, I _will_ be going back to NMO, simply because I love wrestling and its cheesy plotlines.**

 **Next chapter ought to be the end of the mystery of the enigma that is "Dave" and get the plot going with a swift kick in the ass.**

 **Until then, don't trash your house in a drunken rage. Please. Do it for those sad dogs in those ASPCA commercials. You know the ones.**

 **Fun Fact: It seems that a large brand of alcoholic beverage in the Canopy Kingdom in Dark Deco Whiskey (at least if the "Big Trouble in Little Innsmouth" poster is right). I decided to make the brand of Vodka "Espidi" as a play on words for SPD. And if you're a Street Fighter player who doesn't know what that stands for, I don't want to be your friend anymore.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Please forgive my stupidity, folks.**

 **I'm happy I work by "Promises nothing", because I missed my deadline of the end of the month!**

 **To be fair, this chapter is pretty fucking big, and pretty fucking important, so much so that I obsessively researched for this chapter to the point that I think I spent more time researching than I did writing. I have no excuses for my disappearance (I have many, but won't bore you with that), and will try to keep up with the next chapter, which also seems to be relatively large. I'm working on it, okay?!**

 **Anyways, for this chapter, I recommend two songs, due to the fact that there's a big tone shift in this chapter. I trust that you will be able to tell, since I don't like using the symbols unless necessary. But the main theme for this chapter is Youthful Lunch from good ol' Persona 4. I trust you not to give away the second...**

 **/watch?v=P1iBzvtl05c**

 **/watch?v=6GpPwiFGuxw**

* * *

The next day had come, and with it, the plan to meet the elusive Dave inside the warehouse. They arrived at 9:00 A.M., and were currently concealing their weapon of choice for this venture.

"Matt, what the fuck are you doing?"

Some were performing this better than others, considering Matt was currently trying to shove his axe down the back of his pants, much to Pat's chagrin.

"Concealing my weapon," he responded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. " _Duh._ "

"Why the hell didn't you just bring your fucking _knife?_ " he asked, exasperated.

"Because Woolie's using it."

He sighed. "By Goddess, I'm going to die with you idiots."

"Hey!" Woolie called out to the two. "Less griping, more hustling!"

"Give me a sec!" Matt replied, desperately trying to keep his weapon hidden.

"Matt, just keep it in your jacket!" Pat yelled, clearly fed up.

"But I won't be able to grab it quickly!"

"Then maybe you should have thought this out a little more!"

Matt shoved the handle down the back of his jacket, the axe head sticking out behind his own head.

"There!" he said with pride in his work.

"Yeah," Pat said sarcastically. "No one expects a _thing_."

"Alright! Let's catch up!" Matt continued, sprinting towards the others.

"If you trip, that thing's going straight into your head, you idiot!" Pat called out, trying to catch up.

After a minute of desperate running from Pat, the two men managed to catch up with their compatriots, who were staring down the path of warehouses in contemplative silence.

"Uhhh... guys-"

"Shh!" Woolie silenced them, swiftly moving towards a warehouse with small rays of light peeking out. "Is this the place, Liam?" Woolie asked, scrutinizing the slightly ajar door.

"Seems to be...?" he answered unassuredly.

"Seriously, why didn't you ask for directions?" Pat huffed.

"Alright!" Matt spoke, ignoring Pat's inquiry. "Are you guys ready to be super professional and blow some minds?"

"Metaphorically or literally?" Liam asked.

"... either or."

The group responded with muffled groans and curses.

"That's the kind of enthusiasm I like to hear!" he continued, seemingly unperturbed by the negative response.

"Now let's get in there and make us some Bones!"

* * *

They slowly crept their way into the dark warehouse, stepping lightly and keeping their weapons hidden from the naked eye.

' _Where the hell is he?_ ' Matt pondered, trying to find a figure in the darkened area. The area seemed to be used mostly for storage at the moment, considering the large stacks of boxes and piles of junk lying around, occasionally illuminated by a swinging bulb. ' _Is this the wrong warehouse?_ '

"Liam, are you sure that this is-"

Matt was immediately cut off by the instantaneous flash of light bathing the area.

Woolie squinted and turned towards the lights. "Alright, who - the _fuck?_ "

Over on the other corner of the warehouse, near a simple light switch, was a short man with light tan skin wearing a simple white ballcap and glasses along with a plaid shirt. He turned around and casually waved at them.

"Wait," Liam said, bewildered. "I've seen him before..."

"That's my roommate," Woolie confirmed, equally confused. "Billy? The fuck are you doing here? I thought you had a poker game or some shit!"

Billy simply walked over and nodded his head.

"Then why are you... _here,_ exactly?"

He blinked.

"Oh, so you're friends with the guys that hired us?"

He nodded.

"And they wanted you here to talk with us?"

Another nod.

"Well, do you know where you can find 'Dave'?"

"I'm up here," a voice yelled from a small booth above their heads. "I'll come down in a second. First, I want to know if you guys are carrying anything. I'm not going down and risking my ass over this shit."

"We don't have anything on us!" Matt yelled back, feigning innocence.

"I can see the axe from behind your head."

"What?!" Matt exclaimed, turning away from the booth while visibly panicking. "I don't know what you mean!"

"Oh, quit being a baby, Dave," a feminine voice called from the other side of the warehouse. "The coast is clear, and we're all friends here, right?"

"Wait... " Liam muttered, a heavy look of concentration etched on his face, before shocking realization broke through.

From behind a pile of boxes walked a picturesque woman with striking blue eyes and stylized purple hair that curled down to the middle of her back. She wore a purple sweater adorned with a white and blue skull that was loose enough to be clinging on by the edges of her shoulders, unbelievably long black stockings paired with heeled black boots, and a smirk that declared pride and dominance.

"No fucking way..." he gaped.

"Hello, boys," she said, her grin only rising on the faces of recognition that flashed across the group. "I'm sure most of you already know who I am, but for those who don't, let me introduce myself.

"Hello, my name is Zone-Tan, and I'm happy to meet your acquaintance."

* * *

"OmygodZone-Tanyou'relikemyfavoritecelebrityandhostandIloveyoubutnotlikelove-lovebecausethatwouldbecrazyrightand-"

Liam was cut off by Pat with a swift slap to the face. "Thanks. I needed that." Liam took a second and then had another revelation. "So, Dave is _the_ Dave Franklyn?" Zone replied with a quizzical nod. "That's fucking awesome!"

"Thanks. I didn't know I had a fan club," Dave chuckled from above.

"Great, now perhaps if you would _come the fuck down here_ , then maybe you could give him an autograph."

"First, unarm them. I ain't going down there until you do."

Zone scoffed, but eventually conceded. "Fine, you pussy. _Lemmy!_ "

Out of nowhere, an amorphous green blob fell from the ceiling with a splat. Soon, the blob started to grow small bumps along its sides, extending until they were 8 long tentacles that lunged at the men.

One immediately snaked underneath Matt's jacket, sliding up his back to the blade of the axe. Matt immediately broke down onto the floor in shivers as the axe was slipped from behind him. "OKAY, I HAD A WEAPON! I ADMIT IT! PLEASE, NEVER DO THAT AGAIN!"

The tentacles soon targeted Liam, and he was quickly rushed down, the tendrils slipping into the back of his pants. "H-hey! Watch what you're touching!"

However, as quickly as it started, the tendrils came out with a Luger, drenched in a mysterious slime.

Liam wrapped his arms around himself. _'I always thought that meeting Zone-Tan would be more like a fairy tale... Reality sucks.'_

Woolie simply threw Matt's knife on the floor and lifted his hands up. "I concede. I'm not dealing with that. Nu-uh."

Matt immediately turned towards him. "Dude! Why did you have to throw it?! You could've scratched it!"

"Consider this payback for yesterday."

"I SAID I WAS SORRY!"

As Lemmy rushed at Pat, he immediately threw his hands up as well. "Wait! I don't have anything on me! I was just gonna use magic!" Nevertheless, the tentacles converged on him, jumping all over his body, him screaming all the while. As the slimy appendages checked him, they threw out a wallet, a horse keychain, and a boxcutter.

"Is Pat okay?" Matt called out, a frown etched on his face as he slowly stood up.

"Don't worry, Lemmy won't hurt him," Zone replied with confidence.

"GET THIS FUCKING THING OFF ME!" Pat yelled, trying to jump away from the glob currently holding him hostage.

"...Well, he won't hurt him _physically._ _Emotionally_ is a different ballpark."

Eventually, Lemmy let go of the enraged red-head, his face a deep crimson as he collected his things before turning towards the others. "WHAT THE FUCK, GUYS?! WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP IT?!"

"I dunno, it looked like you were having a good time there. I didn't want to interrupt anything special," Matt said, breaking into peals of laughter. "You alright?"

"I hate all of you..." Pat mumbled. ' _I'm gonna bathe for a day straight after this._ '

"I don't see why you guys are being such prudes," Zone said offhandedly.

"Unlike you, most people don't like being violated by slimy tentacles," Dave commented, slowly emerging from his hidden shelter.

She was about to snark back until she noticed Lemmy slink back towards her with the collected weapons. "Awww, who's a perfect little tentacle monster? _You_ are! _Yes you are!_ " she cooed, scratching the creature under a lump that was apparently its chin.

"Somehow, against all logical reasoning," Dave continued, slowly climbed down the stairs, "you still manage to find ways to creep me out, you psycho."

"Shut up, asshole," she shot back, still coddling her gelatinous pet.

"Anyways," Dave called out from behind a stack of boxes. "I am the ever-elusive Dave Franklyn. I apologize for my co-host's apparent lack of human ethics. I do hope we don't grow to loathe each other."

Zone let out a laugh that morphed into an ominous giggle. "Sure. _Co-host._ Give yourself a promotion from cannon fodder." Dave's exposed hand tightened and grew into a deep shade of crimson. "But don't worry, you'll soon learn that he's also an annoying shut-in who doesn't know when to keep his mouth _shut!_ " Zone added, with Pat slowly being helped up by Matt and Woolie, the ginger swearing uncontrollably as he rose.

"Dude, we all felt it, so just get up and deal with it like the rest of us," Matt groaned, clearly agitated himself from the surprise inspection.

"No, fuck you assholes! Why the _fuck_ are we still fucking here after being _touched_ by that fucking _thing?!_ "

"Creative vocabulary," Dave deadpanned. "I can see we'll get along just fine."

Zone walked up to the gathered men, scowling at the shivering mess that was Pat. "Two reasons, _Boy-_ vin. First, I believe these two deserve a reward for taking out the Imanok Gang, even if they were self-destructing as is." She quickly threw a wad of Bones on the floor next to the two hitmen in question. "10,000 Bones, as promised.

"However, I also want to offer you a new job. A more _long-term_ job."

"And that would be?" asked Matt, admittedly intrigued by the celebrity's underground dealings.

"I'm planning a little... _business venture_ , you might say. I would pay you finely, and in return, I want you all to be muscle, on call and when I need you.

"Of course, I know that simple words won't entice you to this idea right away, so I would like to up the pot a bit." She gestured for Billy to bring something over, and he soon returned with a large briefcase. She slowly opened it to reveal the stacks upon stacks of Bones within.

"50,000 cash is within this case. Keep it." She tossed it over to Woolie, who caught it with little effort despite the size. "And that's just a _taste_ of what you could gain from working with me."

Matt stared at the case, then at Zone, with equal parts bewilderment, confusion, and concern. "Why us, exactly?"

"Well," Dave cut in. "There was going to be a three-man team at first, but one was run over, one kept yelling and calling himself 'Ding-Dong', and the last got thrown into the ocean by the other two."

"O...kay?" Liam responded. "What the hell did you tell them to do?"

" _Rob a grocery store._ "

"Wait, so that entire job was a _test?_ "Woolie asked, confused over the exact purpose of their mission.

"Essentially, yes," Dave replied quickly.

"So for that entire mission, _there weren't even any girls to fuck with?_ " Woolie asked, confused over the exact purpose of their mission.

"No," Dave responded. "She simply wanted a test to see if you guys were up to snuff with what Miss Crab Ass here wanted."

"So I wasted that awesome line about not fucking with the girls on a _false event?_ " Woolie asked, gripping his dreads in anger. "Oh, COME ON!"

"Why the fuck did the other guys get a grocery store, while Matt and Woolie had to fight a fucking _gang?_ " Pat questioned accusingly.

"Billy here talked very highly of you guys," Zone spoke up again. "I simply wanted to test whether you guys were worth the hype."

"Thanks, _Billy._ " Woolie snarked, staring daggers at his roommate.

Billy simply shrugged nonchalantly.

"I also have a question," Liam joined in, curiosity evident in his tone. "I could understand getting bodyguards for more permanent use, but why exactly would you want _hitmen_ to fill that role?"

Zone's eyes lit up. "Oh no, you misunderstand! I'm not hiring you as simple _bodyguards,_ " she continued with a sweep of her hands. "Can I ask you all a simple question?"

"Go ahead...?" Matt answered, still confused to where this meeting was going.

"Rules _suck,_ don't they?"

All hands immediately rose up.

"Perfect. Now, in a government, no matter how strict the legislature or monarchy, there will eventually be crime. It is a simple yin-yang scenario that we all must acknowledge.

"However, the idea of these crime syndicates are to empower those which the government deems low-class and give that which the government deems illegal to those that wish for or need it. These groups have their own type of power, but will work for the benefit of their city. This can be proven with the fact that large numbers of soldiers in the Great War were members of organized crime. In the end, both of these spectrums wish to protect their turf.

"However, the Medici Mafia has grown too vast, to the point that instead of allowing its turf to flourish, it has instead choked it to a point of fear from not only the monarchy, but also their fellow man. Any person now could wipe out an entire family's home and simply be able to run amok due to a single connection with the conglomerate. They have broken not only legal, but heavy moral boundaries. They have created not an atmosphere of respect, but of ruthless aggression and dominant terror. The lower classes are larger than ever, as people aren't able to pay 'protection costs' and are put out of business before they can truly grow, leaving families in unsurvivable debt."

Zone slammed her fist on a stack of boxes, causing the structure to crumble and fall. She looked back up with a resolute stare. "They must collapse, and a true, _efficient_ mafia must be born on the ashes. We should be able to trust in our fellow man when the Capital fails us!"

Pat simply rose and stared at the purple-clad woman in scrutiny. " _Very_ rousing speech there. Really got the blood pumping. But let me ask you a simple question." He quickly turned and pointed and accusatory finger at her. "Why the _hell_ would you even care? You live in Canopolis! You aren't even _close_ to the area of effect! _You live at the Capital you diss!_ Why do _you_ feel the need to give this righteous speech when you have probably _never_ had to deal with a single Medici in your _life?!_ "

"You don't know my history with the Medicis, so I'd suggest you keep your mouth shut, _Boy_ -vin."

"It's _Boivin,_ you slimy _sonuva-!_ "

" _Pat!_ " Matt caught him, trying to push him back once again. ' _This conversation is going bad really fast._ '

" _Anyway,_ " Liam continued, trying to get back on track as quickly as possible. "How would you be able to lead a criminal organization when you're a celebrity? You're already risking it just by being out in a conspicuous place like this."

"Good point, Liam!" she commended him, causing him to clam up into a state of nervous giggles. "Unfortunately, I don't believe I will be around for a lot of your little exploits, though I will be directing them. Luckily, I have someone you can take immediate orders from!"

Woolie froze for a few seconds. "WaitwaitwaitwaitWAIT! So you want to create a criminal organization, but you won't be around to _direct it?_ "

In the back, you could hear Pat cough "hmmhmmBULLSHIThmmhmm..."

Zone looked over grudgingly and confirmed with a nod. "I know how it sounds, but I simply won't be around all the time, especially since I have to film ZTV every weekday and keep racking in funds. And _if you were listening,_ you would have heard me say that I have a second-in-command here to lead when I'm gone."

"OH WE HEARD, WE JUST CAN'T BELIEVE IT!" Pat yelled again.

"Someone put a muzzle on him!"

"I ain't doing it," Dave replied. "This trainwreck is too entertaining to pass up."

" _Not helping, Dave,_ " she seethed.

"For Goddesses' sake, who's the guy?" Woolie demanded, growing irritated over the endless bickering.

" _That would be me._ "

From behind the pair of men stepped out a bald man with a purple shirt, simple jeans, and a black beard hiding an obvious scowl. "Pleasure to meet the Scrublords themselves."

"Goddamn it," Matt grumbled. "We're the Zaibatsu!"

"Whatever," he simply responded as he made his way towards Zone-Tan. "Hello, my name is Plague, and you will be dealing with _me_ for the forseeable future. That is, if you take the deal."

"Yes. You see, Plague has much experience in the art of organized crime, and as such, will be coordinating you for any missions you may undertake."

"Okay, final question," Woolie said. "...will there be weekly paychecks?"

Zone's eyes lit up with surprise. "O-of course! I... thought that was implied with the briefcase."

"Then that's all I need to know. I'm in." Woolie simply shrugged his shoulders and moved towards her, high-fiving Billy along the way. Unfortunately, Woolie kept his grip on his hand, slowly squeezing and rolling his hand, grinding bone. Billy desperately jerked his hand away, clutching his appendage like a lifeline.

"Fuck it, sign me up, too," Liam moved over the the other side. Zone placed her hand on his shoulder as he passed by, causing his legs to become jelly.

He immediately faceplanted as they gave out.

"Wait! I won't be so easily swayed!" Matt said, his face slowly growing into a more serious frown. "I need two things promised:

"One, can you promise the protection of my family? I'm not doing this if they're in danger of any sort of backlash."

Zone shifted, a confidence-yet-seriousness taking over her tone . "Of course. I won't risk anything like that. If you need anything from a new house to a new name, just notify me. On my word, I'll make it happen."

"Okay. One more thing," Matt said, still not fully convinced. "I need one last thing done before I join."

Zone loosened up a bit. "Name it."

"I want the organization to be named the Zaibatsu."

"No!" Liam yelled, scrambling to his feet. "Stop it! Zone, say no!"

Zone pondered for a bit, before...

"I can agree with that."

"NOOOO!" Liam cried out, reaching out for Zone, only for Lemmy to drag him back. "Please reconsider or something, Zone! Just call us Scrublords! Goddamn it! He gets to name everything!"

"Not my problem," Zone simply responded, walking up to Pat. "So, what do you say, _Boy_ -vin?"

"Again, it's _Boivin._ "

"And Lemmy is not a _thing_ , so I'd suggest making your choice before you're not a liability."

Pat looked around at the people surrounding him in the warehouse. Some were friends, others acquaintances, others potential rapists. But through it all, he could only think of one thing.

"Fuck it, I'll join. BUT-" he cut Zone off before she could crack a victorious smile. "Just know that I'm not doing this for _you._ I'm doing this so that my friends aren't being tricked into baited jail cells. And if I find out that this _was_ a trick?" His lifted a finger, a small flame slowly sprouting out of the tip as he scowled with a deep hatred.

"Oh, you'll wish you _stayed_ in Canopolis."

Zone simply looked at him. " _Boivin,_ I'm gonna be frank with you here: I don't like you at all. Hell, if I knew you long enough, I'd say I completely hate you." She reached out and pinched the flame, extinguishing it. "And I don't _fear_ you either, so you can drop the macho act," she continued, her eyes morphing almost into a dark green and her voice becoming more bestial.

"But I at least respect you. So I promise you, this is no trick. And if you guys are as talented as they say, then the Medicis should be no problem in time." She finished, her eyes gradually returning the their blue hue as she slowly walked away to join the others, before quickly turning back. "Oh! And one more thing, Pat?"

"What is it?" he looked up, a deep look of contemplation and frustration on his face.

"Welcome to the Zaibatsu."

* * *

Along the borders of the Canopy Kingdom, there lies miles among miles of scorched land and decimated ruins. These areas are virtually uninhabited, and thus are either filled with hardened criminals, gangs of wanderers, and those simply too stubborn to leave their home. The general lack of life makes the wastelands a popular location for distant illegal activity, and since it is out of most other countries' jurisdiction, can be performed under little worry of getting caught.

Within the charred remains of a once-lively village, a lone figure wanders under the setting sun, exhausted both physically and emotionally. The poor nomad was young, seeming to be but a young pre-teen, with brown, grimy hair and a defeated scowl. She grit her teeth, clutching her stomach through her unkempt maid's uniform. She trudged onward, her body only seeming to grow more frail from her starvation and exhaustion. She walked into the structure of what was possibly a lively home once, desperately looking through the near pitch-black remains for some remnant of food left behind all those years ago.

After scrounging through the burned and rusted cabinets, she managed to find what appeared to be a bent can of... something. It seemed the label was melded by years of rain. But food is still food! She quickly ran around the remnants of the kitchen for something to open it with, the silent promise of a meal enough motivation to justify a few minutes of aching pain. Eventually, she found a slab of metal with a sharp point, and dashed back to the can, a flash of hope appearing within her hollowed blue eyes.

As she reached her mysterious prize, she quickly raised her fists into the air, clutching the impromptu blade above her, before slamming it down onto the lid with just enough force to pierce through the tin. She pried it back, hoping to pop it open to reach her filling reward. Eventually, the metal conceded, peeling back to reveal...

"... Peaches," she stated, eyeing the canned fruit suspiciously. The peaches seemed to be dry, but didn't look to be fully rotten. But then again, the room was quite dark, and the peaches weren't exactly smelling like roses. But food was food, and in the end, who was she to complain?

She quickly turned the can upside down and attempted to devour the peaches, trying not to drop any while also trying to avoid cutting her mouth on the edges of the can. After a few minutes of scarfing down any bits of the "fruit", along with shaking the can for any more, she reluctantly stood up and threw the can across the room, moving to leave the house.

After trudging back to the front porch, she moved over the decrepit wood, hoping to rid herself of her dark memories as soon as possible. Suddenly, the wood creaked from under her, breaking the wood and slamming her onto the floor with a thud. She lifted herself up, cradling her arm, which seemed to be bleeding from some strange cut during the fall, and moved off of the porch back onto the dirt path through the town.

' _How close am I to the Canopy Kingdom...?_ ' she thought, her stomach starting to churn from the questionable peaches. She continued on, mindful of the wreckage strewn around her like a minefield of splintered wood and rusted nails.

This town was but a small dot on the near-continental size of No Man's Land, but for some reason, it... saddened her to know that this town could have once been a happy neighborhood, full of joyful people and childlike innocence. But reality soon took hold, and wiped them out like so many other towns.

' _Like my own._ '

She trekked on, making it outside of the town, and through a large open wasteland, seeming to once be a large forest considering the amount of charred stumps she had to go around. She trudged forward, attempting to ignore the rush of cold wind chilling her to the bone. She moved towards a small stump, sitting down to try and rewarm herself and calm the violent rumbling and lurching of her stomach.

' _Should I turn back around and stay in one of the houses?'_ she questioned, turning to look back towards the crumbling town. The sun wasn't down yet, its final rays still lingered along the sky. Yet the sun was behind her, and somehow there seemed to be shadows stretching towards her...

' _Headlights._ '

She sat up and dashed, her legs barely keeping up with her mind, both racing beyond what they should be. She didn't look back, simply racing her way out of the maze of eroded stumps and logs. ' _Can't let them find me, can't let them find me, can't let them find me..._ ' she repeated to herself like a mantra, the very _idea_ of them finding her being enough reason to push beyond her nauseousness and aching legs.

She sprinted through the wreckage, almost through the burned forest, barely slowing down as she spotted a small drop onto more ground, still attempting to gasp for air to aid her burning lungs.

 _ **GGGRRRUUUMMMBLE**_

The ground underneath her suddenly shifted, throwing her off balance. Suddenly, it dropped, sending her down with it the three or so feet and throwing her onto an extended root.

"OOOMPH!" she cried out in pain, grasping her punished stomach once again, desperately squeezing her eyes closed to focus on keeping her meal down.

She flipped her body to her side to quickly survey if she could see any unnatural light along the remaining trees.

' _... Nothing._ '

She quickly turned herself back up, leaning on the closest stump near her to keep herself upright, the stump just so happening to be the one connected to the root that just beat her body in.

She once again tucked her limbs into the dress to keep them away from the cold. To be honest, even in the strong summer heat, she still couldn't find it in herself to leave the dress behind, even with its stuffy nature. It held... too many memories.

' _A young redhead. Cleaning together, eating together, sleeping together, working together._ '

She clamping her eyes closed again, trying to ignore these closeted memories.

' _Newspaper. A war. A queen. A wish._ '

She balled her fists together from within her dress, grasping at the inner fabric.

' _Sirens. Panic. Screaming. Explosions. Annihilation. Destruction._ '

She slammed her head back onto to stump, attempting to beat it out of her mind.

' _Men. Guns. RedredredRedrEd._ '

A violent gasp escapes from her.

' _Enslavement. Wandering. Following. Arguments. A stone. Trip. Fall._ '

A tear.

' _Threatening. Hitting. A voice. A figure.'_

 _'Red hair.'_

She clenches her teeth as a sob tries to escape.

' _Anger. Rage. Violence. Eyes. None. Screaming._ '

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..." a mumbled voice says through cloth.

' _Abandonment._ '

Vomiting.

' _PATRICIAPATRICIAPATRICIAPATRICIAPATRICIAPATRICIAPATRICIA!_ '

A cry echoes through the sky.

...

"You needn't run anymore, child. The Trinity has heard your cries."

She quickly looked up to see a strange woman cloaked in the darkness.

"Who... who are you?" she asked, wiping away her tears upon her sleeve.

"A friend," the woman simply replied.

"I said," Marie moved to stand up, having to hold on to the stump to right herself. "Who are you?"

"Do not fret, my child, I bring no ill will."

"Then why won't you tell me your name?"

"Because you will soon become acquainted with it," the figure spoke with complete confidence.

"What do you want with me?" she asked, sending an untrustful glare towards her.

"I have come to help you, you see. Some would call me a... guardian angel of sorts."

"You've been slacking off on the job," she replied with spite.

"I know you've dealt with many hardships, my child. So I have brought... reconciliation."

The figure slowly pulled out a box and opened it, bathing the area in a haunting blue glow.

"With this one item, all your wishes can become a reality."

"I-is that...?" she gasped.

"Indeed. And the Trinity has chosen you to be its herald," the woman said. She appeared to be a nun, based on her current getup, and acted the part.

"Why... would I wish upon something that has such unforeseen consequences?"

"And who would face such consequences? You grew up with no real family, did you not?"

Silence.

"You have no emotional connections to anyone else, do you not?"

A sniffle.

"So, please tell: who does this impact that is close to you? The family you never knew? The dozens upon dozens of parents who never chose you? The countless men who could possibly be after you for escaping the Medicis?" She circled around the area where she sat, never looking down to acknowledge her.

"Or could it be your dearest friend, slaughtered by the Medicis and left to die miles away from the ruins of your home?"

She shook with rage at the statements, unable to retort, because she knew, deep down...

She was right.

"Fine. I will listen to what you want."

"The Trinity only wishes for that which is right. Remember this. What is your name?"

"My name," she started, sniffling and wiping her eyes. "Is Marie. Marie Korbel."

"Now Marie," the woman spoke, slithering to her shoulder. "I only wish for your happiness. But I can't grant it unless you tell me to."

Marie closed her eyes, still sniffling, and focused. "Okay."

"Okay what?"

She lifted her head, a rageful stare emanating towards the glowing medallion. "Please grant my wish."

"What is it that you wish for most in this world?"

Marie reached forward to grasp the haunting skull, a bright light beginning to emanate from it. "I wish...

" _To end The Medicis._ "

* * *

 **I _HOPE_ that you liked this chapter, since it was a tough one to pop out. If you have any complaints with the logic (or with any typos, as I spotted a few last chapter. I was tired, okay? I'll be editing those out...), leave a comment. I have come up with a few contingencies and arguments for a few of these, but there may be a point of view that might pop my ego's point of view, so I need to be prepared for that. Can't break that suspension of disbelief too early, y'know?**

 **Either way, to those who have favorited and followed, I thank you for putting up with my fucked schedule, and special thanks to Depicable Kiwii for reminding me that HUMANS read this! Real life hoomans!**

 **But until next time, I must bid you all... adieu.**

 **Fun Fact: Marie and Patricia are from a collapsed nation once called Rommelgrad. But as you can imagine... it didn't go very well.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Luck has not been very nice to me in the past month.**

 **I have lost ALL sources of internet, I have been diagnosed with a possible heart illness, and worst of all, I MISSED MY DEADLINE FOR THE END OF THE MONTH. I hope to have the next chapter out by the end of this month, but it's looking shoddy at best.**

 **Anyways, welcome to the first chapter where the Zaibatsu is the Zaibatsu in this story called Zaibatsu. Lovely.**

 **But this chapter is beefed up quite a bit for the delay in schedule, and I _am_ working on the next one as we speak, so that's always a blast.**

 **The theme for this here chapter is Beneath the Mask (Instrumental). Once again, we see Personey have a chapter song, but, to be fair, it's Persona 5. I will mix it up more in the coming chapters, but these soundtracks are strong, so they might show up again later down the line.**

 **/watch?v=k_fc_AZmaKs**

* * *

"Welcome to our little abode."

"When I got a mission to avenge some chicks Thursday, I didn't imagine that by Saturday I would be a member of a gang led by a celebrity and a bald guy with a life sentence," Woolie reminisced.

"Yeah, well fate's sort of a bastard in that regard," Plague commented, continuing his 'tour' of the new base of operations for the Zaibatsu. "Who the fuck knows what's going to happen next? One day, you're eating a hot dog on your front porch, next day, you're assaulted by a pig feral who's saying you ate his sister."

"It's the life we chose, though, so we can't really complain," Woolie added.

Plague and Pat immediately scoffed. " **Says you.** "

"I'll complain about whatever the fuck I want," Pat continued.

"But what kind of life is that to live?" Liam joined in with a frown.

"A fucking _great_ one," Plague answered with gusto.

"Wow, you're pretty gripey."

"Yep," Plague replied without breaking his stride.

"Anyway," Matt redirected the conversation. "What exactly are we doing here? You aren't exactly telling us anything about this place."

The base seemed to simply be an abandoned, adequately sized office building, with boxes filled with who-knows-what taking up most of the right side, along with filling up most of the rooms lining along the left wall up to the window.

Plague simply looked around the area and the dozen-or-so people milling around and moving things, and spotted an object at the right wall. "Well, over on the right is the water tank. Don't drink it all; I have to pay for it."

Matt simply looked around quizically. "That's it?"

"Well, what do _you_ want, _Oh Great Leader?_ "

"Who are the people we will be working with? Where are we going? _Where's the restroom?_ "

"Mm," Plague grunted, turning towards the front of the building, where a simple potted plant was placed. "Well, there's one of your answers. Choose which."

Matt's face slowly grew into an aggravated crimson, nearly about to burst.

"The restroom's the fourth door on the left, sir," a meek voice responded from behind them. The five men swiftly turned around to see an awkward figure with deep brown eyes wearing a black bear hood. "...hi."

"...Hello?"

"My name's Cranky. Are you the new guys?"

"That's awfully subjective, considering _all_ of you are the 'new guys,'" Plague replied with a sigh.

"Yeah, but we've been here getting stuff set up and junk, so..."

" _So why aren't you setting stuff up?_ "

Cranky simply looked down at his feet and kicked invisible dust. "Well, I was just..."

"Exactly. Now go on."

"...ok." Cranky dejectedly dragged himself away from the new recruits.

"Wait!" Matt called out to the downtrought boy. "Thanks for the answer. I look forward to working with you."

His frown slowly grew into a bright smile. "Likewise, sir! Enjoy the rest of the tour!"

Matt waved goodbye and turned back to Plague, a frown adorning his visage. "Plague, you realize you have to keep morale up in a rag-tag team like this, right?"

Plague turned back, somehow with an even deeper frown. " _Noooo_. All of these years of existing within the dirty life of crime has taught me _nothing._ " He turned his head towards Matt exclusively. "And you want to know what I also _didn't_ learn about?"

He turned back towards the scurrying workers and called out. "Cranky! Come here for a sec!"

The hooded lackey dashed back in front of Plague in barely a second. "You needed me?"

"You're human filth. Why are you here? I told you to leave the room a few seconds ago. Why do I have to repeat myself to your stupid furry-jacket ass? Idiot."

Cranky stood therein a state of confusion for a second, unable to understand what had transpired. "I... I'm sorry, sir?"

Plague hummed in acknowledgement, fishing something out of his back pocket. "Good. Now here's 5 bones. Get back to work, you slacker."

His eyes immediately lit up in excitement. "Thank you, sir! I'm on it!" he exclaimed, dashing back and lifting the boxes with renewed vigor.

"As you can see, money is the true convincer. So you can handle _morale;_ I'll be handling _paychecks,_ thank you," Plague finished, turning away from the three awed and morally-conflicted men and the entertained ginger. "Now, let's move on the the point shall we?

"I'm basically going to be navigating this little ship of our to the rock-and-scurvy-infested river that is Underground New Meridian and its neighboring backpipes and alleyways. Do what she wants, and I don't give a fuck what you assholes do. Don't, and I'm here as an enforcer."

"Okay, okay, we got it." Woolie pointed towards the end of the hall. "Can we continue looking around now?"

Plague turned around, his expression fading from bored tiredness into bored indifference. "Alright then." He took multiple strides forward, the boys following close behind. "The fifth door on the left is the break room. If I see you in there shoveling your jaw with food that's not yours, it's your funeral.

"And here are the stairs. Downstairs is going to be storage, so unless you have business down there, I don't want you coming back up with powdery and bloody nostrils. But what wonders will we find after going _up_ these trecherous stairs?" Plague deadpanned whilst performing jazz hands.

He was met with quiet grumbles and yawns.

"Nice to see I'm entertaining the simpletons well enough." Plague slowly jogged up the stairs, the others right on his heels.

"Here are the _important_ rooms." Plague walked up to a door and quickly opened it, leading into a long hallway. "Alright, the door on the right is my office. Try not to bother me, as I may be doing paperwork or... _other deplorable acts._ In any case, on the left is your office, boys. And straight ahead is-"

"Woah woah woah WOAH." Liam immediately walked in front of him. "What do you mean _'boys'?_ "

"Well, you obviously don't have the experience I have at doing this kind of shit, so-"

"No, do you mean all of us? Like, we're getting the same office? In _one place_?" Woolie clarified, grabbing at his hat with an iron grip.

"Well, I implied it, so-"

"NO!" Pat yelled. "Why do you get that big-ass office while we have to share one?"

"Our offices are the same size, you know," Plague stated, hoping to nip the inevitable whining in the bud before it could begin.

"But you're one person, and we're four!" Pat complained. "Why can't we just have two in there, and two at the big office at the end?"

The office in question had a large amount of detailing along the trim, concluding in two snake heads at the top and center of the frame. "That would be Ms. Tan's office, and you _know_ she would kick your ass if you stepped foot in there without her permission."

Pat raised his finger as if to argue against the point, but slowly lowered it and slipped into the back.

"So, we all have to share _one_ office?" Liam said with a ghost of a grimace.

"Yes."

"For the forseeable future?"

"Of course."

"Great," Matt said, sagging towards the door. "You guys want to at least see the room?"

"I guess," Woolie said with a whine and a grunt. He pushed his way forward and looked at the large open space available to them. "... I think we may be able to make this work, guys."

"...Yeah!" Matt said, ideas already forming. "We could add a couch, maybe a few desks..."

"Well, the room's yours, so don't shake the place and you can do whatever you li-" Before Plague could even finish his statement, all 4 hitmen ran past him back towards the first floor.

He quickly walked towards the staircase, looking around for the missing men. "What the hell are you guys doi-" He attempted to call out, before once again being cut off by Matt and Liam blowing completely past him with boxes upon boxes stacked upon their arms, and Pat followed by Woolie racing along with an 8-foot couch up the stairs.

"Fuck yeah! Decorating the new office!" Liam and Matt yelled from the top of the staircase, followed by a door closing along with a crash and an audible string of swears from Pat, who most likely slammed into the door with the couch still in his arms.

"They're a fun bunch," Cranky said to Plague, gazing up at the stairwell.

"Get back to work, please," Plague ordered to the growing crowd, massaging his temple. ' _This better be fucking worth it, Zone._ '

* * *

"No, I want to put my Hitomi poster here!"

"Fuck you, Rage is being put up here!"

"Who fucking cares about Rage? He's just some blank muscle guy NMO has just to be intimidating!"

"Compared to your walking pair of tits that somehow squeezes into a ring?"

As many in the building could hear, Matt and Woolie were currently attempting to rip each other's heads off over where to place their merchandise. As they continued their impromptu screaming contest, Plague simply stood in the doorway, apparent confusion written on his face.

' _How... how did they get so much shit here so fast?!_ '

Along the walls of the office stood dozens upon dozens of various cartoon, game, movie, and anime posters, models, and general knick-knacks. On the left side of the room sat a large HDTV playing Annie: Girl of the Stars reruns, with multiple consoles and bricks (goddess-knows what they were) connected to the back of the screen through a spiderweb of wires. Somehow, within the past 15 minutes, they made what was supposed to be an orderly and professional office look like a nerdy teenager's wet dream of a bedroom.

"Fight for it! Fight for the spot!" Pat yelled across the room, pushing the confrontation to its inevitable conclusion.

"Wait," Plague called out, his face morphing back into its natural frown. "As much as I would _love_ to see you two try to murder each other, I must ask that you don't for the sake of the property. I'm not paying for damages to your little _play-pen_ you seem to have built."

"If we have to stay in one office for long-ass periods of time, we might as well have something to do during that time," Liam called out, bringing out a body-pillow of a blue-haired idol.

Plague just gave a tired look to the man, giving the "office" a once-over to come to terms. "...At this point, I could care less. Do you guys at least have desks?"

"You know it!" Matt coughed out, currently in a headlock from Woolie, desperately trying to place a piece of tape connected to his Hitomi poster on the wall.

"They're on the right, Pla- ah, shit! No biting, Matt!" Woolie yelled, bonking Matt on the head repeatedly in an attempt to get the black-clad man to stop, followed by a muffled 'Nevah!'

"Fuck this," Pat simply stated as he strolled up to the corner where the fight was taking place. He quickly pulled out a piece of tape and plastered a poster of a knight hunting a dinosaur in the space with a grin.

" **NOOOOOOOO!** " they cried out in unison, looking at the offending poster with pure hate and disdain. "Why, Pat?!" Woolie immediately followed with a hint of betrayal.

"I told you guys to fight! You took too long, so I decided to improvise!" Matt simply looked over with a pout, attempting to gaze into Pat's soul.

Unfortunately, he only saw darkness, and Pat immediately followed with, "THERE IS A WHOLE FUCKING ROOM FOR YOU TO PUT YOUR CREEPY FETISH PICTURES AT!"

"...fine," Matt said with a groan, Woolie grumbling things with his head hung low.

"Cheer up, guys," Liam cheered at the corner, wearing a grin as he picked up and toyed with a sniper rifle with 'Vita' written on the sides in a thick cursive. "At least you don't have to look _up_ to see your posters."

Pat's face immediately flushed red, with Woolie giving out a long 'awww'. Matt placed the poster gingerly on the very end of the front wall, a look of deep satisfaction on his face.

"Don't you have a girlfriend or something?" Plague asked with a puzzled look.

"... Yeah?"

"So why do you need a poster of some bimbo on your wall?"

"Plague, Plague, Plague..." Matt said condescendingly. "Even an _architect_ can admire a fine building from time to time," he finished with a grin.

Plague slowly turned to walk away. "Whatever floats your boat, I guess."

"Hey Plague!" Matt called out, causing the man in question to turn with a inquisitive stare. "When's the first mission and stuff?"

"I don't _know,_ " Plague replied with a scowl. "We have to finish ordering all that shit we... _obtained_ from Imanok first."

"Okay...?"

"Yes, now don't kill each other, children~" Plague singed-songed as he left the room, mumbling "don't make _my_ job easier'' as he slammed the door.

"Alright then, boys!" Matt called to his fellow compatriots, flashing a proud smile. "Who's ready to make the big bucks!?"

* * *

 _Five Hours Later..._

The room was strewn with bodies of barely conscious men, all letting out deep groans and whines. Woolie slowly lifted his head from the flat position he laid on his desk. "Does anyone else feel..."

"...Bored as hell?" Pat called, sprawled out along the couch, his gut hanging free in the air.

"Yeah..." Liam called, flipping from where he was hanging on the armrest of the couch, landing on his back and beginning to spoon both the rifle and the body pillow.

"..." Matt whined, looking at the room with a glazed look in his eyes. In a flash, however, they retained their cobalt hue, set into a determined stare. "...Man, this is shit!" he yelled in an outrage.

"...yeah," Woolie mumbled, slowly sitting up a bit more so he could see the palpable amount of sloth within the room.

"I'm going to Plague," Matt declared, slowly rolling off the couch and across the floor until he reached a wall so he could crawl his way up.

"...Get me a fucking Tauro Dillema while you're at it," Pat mumbled, also flopping onto the floor with an audible 'oomph'.

"No, you can get your own energy drink; we're all going."

Woolie immediately gave out a violent groan from his desk. "Do we _have_ to?"

"Yeah, man. C'mon, get up, guys."

Pat performed a roll into a kneeling position as Woolie lifted himself up with an audible crack in his back. "Matt, I never mention it enough," Pat said, groaning while attempting to stretch. "I hate you."

"Aw, you love it," Matt responded with a chuckle. As the three men stretched and punched their sleeping limbs, the only man not to stand was Liam, who continued to cuddle with his pillow and rifle with a defiant scowl. "Liaaaam."

"No."

"C'mon, buddy. Let's go to Plague."

"...I don't wanna," he whined, muffling his voice in the soft comforts of his pillow.

"Well, the rest of us do, so three votes beat one."

"Go without me."

"Nope."

"Please, Matt?"

Matt sighed and turned towards Pat. "You know what to do, man."

Pat began to walk over and grab at Liam, with violent thrashing as resistance. "C'mon, Liam, you can be creepy with your rifle later."

"YAMATE!" Liam cried out, reaching for his spot with arms with as effective as noodles. His outcries were cut off by Pat slapping him, knocking sense into him once again.

"Alright, then," Matt continued, opening his door. "We're going to go in there, and we're going to yell the SHIT out of Plague! And you know what? Whoever yells the most will get an extra bonus!"

"I LOVE getting bonuses for yelling at bitches!" Pat replied with a grin.

* * *

" **PLAGUE!** " Matt and Pat yelled simultaniously as they busted through the door, only to see a completely unperturbed Plague sitting on a rather expensive-looking rocking chair reading the newspaper. His room screamed country, yet held a level of cleanliness and order that almost seemed like a strange paradox of a room.

"Oh hello boys! I didn't think I would get a visit so soon!" Plague responded in what almost seemed like a cheery mood, if not for the scowl that still made its home on his visage. "Did you know that Princess Umbrella has her own living weapon now? She's _seven!_ Why does she have that kind of thing at such a young age? Does she even know how to use it?" He rolled his eyes. " _Royals._ "

Matt and Pat stood with slanted expressions as Liam and Woolie followed in behind them."...Guys?"

"Well, enough about the news. What can I do for you?" Plague continued, turning away from his paper to eye the intruders.

Matt shook his head wildly and met the bearded man's gaze head-on. "We want a job! Or something to do!"

"What you _could_ do is sit in your office until I get a call to do something," Plague said nonchalantly while reaching for a new issue of his newspaper. Pat squinted at the copy, and came to a realization.

" _Two years ago?_ " Pat questioned, turning back to Plague.

"Eh, might as well catch up on what's been going on while I was gone."

"How long were you in prison?!"

"About..." Plague looked down to his fingers to count. "This many."

"...But you don't have your hands up."

"Yeah?"

"WHAT DID YOU _DO?!_ " Matt yelled incredulously.

"I was ' _temporarily incarcerated'_ for pushing my mother down the stairs," he replied with a deadpan expression.

"... Anyways," Pat diverted. "I thought we were running a gang here! Why is everyone sitting around? I want a paycheck, not a sinking buoy!"

"Well, the boys are still unpacking shit, so you could help there," Plague said, shooing them away.

As he turned back to his paper, a black blur darted into the room. "Sir, the products from the remnants of Imanok have been secured and stored as to your requirements!" Cranky said in one quick breath. "What now, sir?"

Plague turned back with a inquisitive expression that turned into an obvious headache. " _Goddamn it, Zone,_ " he muttered before turning back to the hooded boy. "Go tell the others that we are to scout for possible buyers ASAP, so go out and look around for any spots away from attention or even prospective buyers _._ "

"Okay, sir!" Cranky saluted before turning back towards the door and running back downstairs.

"That kid is going to drive me crazy," Plague grunted, massaging his temples.

"Well, how about we do that?" Matt yelled, gesturing to the spot Cranky once stood.

Plague scoffed. "As much as I would love for you to leave this place _one way or the other_ ," he looked down and opened his paper with a flourish. "I can't have you leaving just yet. I need you to watch over the building. Check for any holes or weaknesses in the architecture. The gist."

"W-what?!"

"Yup. Can't have you going out and fucking anything up. Nosiree. Sorry about that. Go back to your office and deal with the unfortunate fate of loafing about for thousands of Bones. Pity you."

Matt lifted a finger, as if to provide an argument, but slowly lowered his finger and walked back to the door. "Sorry, guys. It seems we won't be able to go out and help the gang," he spoke, disinterested.

"Yep."

"That's _such a shame_ " He continued, turning over to Woolie with the semblance of a smirk. "Right, Woolie?"

Woolie slowly hid his grin. "Yes indeed, my friend. A shame indeed."

The group slowly turned towards the door, only to stop when a flash of white pierced into the door frame in the flash of an eye. "Boys? Do you think I was born yesterday?" he asked slowly, staring what could be literal daggers at the hitmen. "If you dare try to go out on a 'fun-filled hyperviolent adventure', I will personally _show_ you why I was locked up."

Liam quickly turned around. "Of course, Boss! Why would we do such a dastardly thing?!"

He simply continued his steely gaze through their collective soul as Liam's poker face continued to slowly break down. "... I'm watching. Not get the hell outta here."

Liam mentally wiped his brow as he turned back to see Woolie open the door. As the rest funneled out, Liam stopped at the door and inspected the wedged object. It was half buried in, so he quickly tugged at the item until it came loose enough to slide out of its wooden jail cell. Liam paled at the realization of what it was.

' _A business card?_ ' He touched the edge of the card to find that it had a sharp edge, but still... ' _How did he get it in so deep? It's a piece of paper!_ '

He quickly turned back to give a quick glare towards the occupant before scampering back to the others. Plague simply stared for a few minutes at the split in his door frame before turning back towards his read. The corner of his mouth turned just the slightest bit.

' _Let's see where the dice land._ '

* * *

"So what's my bonus?"

"Huh?" Matt turned from writing at his desk, visibly confused.

"What. Is. My. _Bonus?_ " Pat repeated with emphasis.

"What are you talking about, Pat?"

"Where's my accommodation for yelling at Plague?"

"Oh, that!" Matt snapped in realization. "You didn't yell the most, man."

"The hell I didn't!" Pat snapped.

"No. I yelled seven times. You yelled three," he spoke matter-of-factly.

"Bullshit! I call bullshit!" Pat shot back. "Woolie, who yelled more?"

"Matt did. I took count, man."

Pat sputtered for a few seconds, before silently sitting down. "I... you... Fuck you, Matt."

"You're welcome."

Pat hummed out in acknowledgement before turning towards the youngest member of the hitmen. "Whatcha doing with that card?"

Liam turned at the voice. "Oh, just checking if the edges have something like a small metal edge, or if Plague actually threw a business card as a shuriken."

Pat looked at the corners as well. "Yes, that _is_ good to check," he acknowledged, slowly turning to look at the small, discernible text on the card.

 _Plague_

 _Hired Arms, Hitman, Artist_

 _I'm Watching You Assholes_

"What a prick."

"Hey, Matt. What exactly is your plan?" Woolie asked, gazing towards Matt's desk, hoping to find some sort of list.

Instead, he saw a terrible scribbled version of Pat, Plague, and himself kneeling and crying towards a masculine Matt, sitting atop a throne of skulls next to a dark-haired woman and half a drawing of a kid.

"Plan?" Matt turned, covering his rough drawing with a comic book. "I was bluffing, man! Thanks for selling it."

Woolie simply stood there silently. "Why?"

"Because if he thinks we have a plan, then he's going to check up on us, and if he checks on us enough, he's going to get bored, and if he gets bored, then we can escape easier!"

The room was bathed in silence for a solid minute.

"Remind me, who put him in charge for planning and, well, anything in general?" Pat asked.

"Eh, no one wanted the job, so it went to the first taker," Liam said, beginning to fold the business card into different shapes.

"Hey! I have _charisma!_ " Matt spoke, puffing out his chest with a proud smirk. "And that's all you need!"

"... No," Woolie responded. "That's not _all you need._ "

"Says the non-leader," Matt mumbled, pulling out his pen and paper again.

Woolie rose to his feet with a huff and turned towards the other two. "Okay, who all wants to go do something to help this gang?"

Everyone raised their hands.

"Good, now who wants me to make the plan?"

No one raised their hand.

"W-what?"

"I'm not letting your lying ass get one of us thrown on a silver platter," Pat said, turning to Liam to watch his impromptu origami show.

Woolie's eyes shone with frustration. "Name ONE TIME I've lied!"

"The time you said that your apartment was at 22011 Carpcad Street, when it was actually 72514 Mahvel Lane," Liam looked up, cradling a miniature paper crawfish.

"I put in the wrong address! That was my old one!"

"The time I asked if you wanted to watch NMO and you said you were having sex with two chicks, when you actually _passed up_ that offer to instead go to the arcade with your precious _fightstick,_ " Pat continued, looking at the impressive paper swan in the folder's hands.

"How the fuck do you even know that?!"

" _Because I know those two chicks, you fucking dunce!_ "

"Also, you stole that old lady's pie during that one mission, and when the lady asked if that was her apple pie, you said that _I_ gave it to you!" Matt said, adding stink lines to the three morphed scribbles on his paper.

"I did that out of necessity! I needed to eat something or else I was going to have to wait a couple of hours _after_ the mission to eat! You know how much that Tony guy was a stickler for time!"

"You still did it!"

Woolie stood around, panicked. "Well, at least I'm not an open cheater like Pat!"

"At least I wear that badge on my sleeve instead of acting like I don't!" Pat retorted, watching Liam fold the card into more and more absurd shapes.

"I AM NOT A LIAR, NOR AM I A THIEF!"

"That sounds like something a lying thief would say..." Matt muttered, causing Woolie to violently groan in the background.

"Fine, you dickheads, I won't lead or make the goddamn plans. But you fuckers better, 'cause if we don't, we're-" Woolie cut off, feeling something fly past him, nearly cutting into his hair.

Everyone turned to see a guilty-looking Liam, his hands in the air in surrender.

"... Sorry. The corners are sharp."

* * *

 **I will apologize now for the Gripe pun early in the chapter right now. I groaned just writing it, but I don't really regret it. Much.**

 **...I'll show myself out.**

 **But of course, thanks for reading. I am getting the ball rolling with a car jack here, and I'm juggling future chapters, continuous Skullgirls Mobile lore updates (Peacock Origins almost gave me a goddamn heart attack for this story), and the ever present threat of school and the inescapable void of death over here, so chapters may not (will not) always be on the iron-clad schedule.**

 **And I feel the need to mention that even though posting chapters will become a pain for me from now on, reading comments will be relatively easy, so don't hesitate on the reviews!**

 **But other than that, I guess it is time to say aloha.**

 **... The goodbye, not the hello. Dammit.**

 **Fun Fact: All named members of the Renoir Royal Family have a umbrella-themed Living Weapon** **(minus the queen for some reason, though she might have _had_ one)** **. Not only that, but they are all named after the German translations of the 4 Horsemen, Kreig (Parasoul) being War, Hungern (Umbrella) being Famine, and Todd (Franz) being Death. If I were a betting boy (which I am, it's a serious problem), then Queen Nancy's would be Eroberung for Conquest. Quite a mouthful.**


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